Family Daze
The color code makes life tricky for volunteer mom
By Debbie Farmer
I'm not quite sure how this happened, but somehow the PTA has got hold of my phone number.
Now don't get me wrong, they seem like a nice, friendly group of people, despite all those bake sales and cookie dough fundraisers. But apparently, since I work from home, they must figure that I have oodles of free time after I finish vacuuming and, instead of aimlessly wandering around looking for activities to fill the void, my day could be much better spent, say, volunteering at the annual book fair.
Between you and me, they're probably right. But that's not why I let them talk me into doing it. Oh, nooo. It was mainly because a) it would be a great way to get involved at my children's school, b) I would develop a sense of deep satisfaction from helping others, and c) I felt really, really guilty.
When I arrived at the book fair, the volunteer parent on the previous shift greeted me enthusiastically and quickly explained that all I needed to do was to help the children find books, then ring up their purchases on the cash register.
"Don't worry, it's simple," she assured me. "Just press the red button to enter the price of the book, and the blue button for subtotals--unless they have more than two books and want to pay by check. Then use the yellow round one on the left. If you press the green square key, the correct change will pop up on the screen, but only if they paid cash--not ATM or credit cards. See? Easy, huh?"
"No problem." I could handle money. After all I'd been through college and had worked in a fast-food restaurant before. Plus, there was always the chance no one would buy anything.
My hopes were dashed when a group of elementary school children, dizzy with freedom and pockets full of change, burst through the door.
"Do you have any Goosebump books here?" a little boy asked. "Like the one about the giant, fire-breathing monster with laser eyes and bloody fangs that mashes cars with its bare feet?"
"No, I don't think so," I said looking through the shelves. "But how about this nice book about a talking duck who gets lost in the forest and is helped by a friendly little squirrel?"
"Forget it, " he said, turning to his friend. "Jeez, whose mom is that anyway?"
But it didn't matter what he thought. The most important thing was that I was taking the time to volunteer and support my daughter's school.
Fortunately, things starting going better since most of the other children left me alone--that is, all except for the demanding few who kept insisting on buying books. Now, I know what you're thinking, and I would've gladly rung up their purchases if I could've remembered the color scheme.
However, they didn't give up easily and, before I knew it, a long line had formed in front of the register. I could sense the crowd was going to get ugly if I didn't do something fast.
So I did what any educated, college graduate would do: I frantically tried pressing all of the buttons, hoping the right combination would either make the drawer fly open, or set off the fire alarm so we could all evacuate the building and go home.
"That's not how you do it," a 5-year-old girl said, reaching over the register.
She was obviously a future PTA president.
By the time the last child approached me, I was so tired I didn't even look up.
"Paper or plastic?" I said automatically. "Would you like some fries with that?"
But when he walked out the door happily carrying a bag full of new books, I realized that volunteering had given me a real sense of satisfaction after all --either that or it was the aftereffect from the adrenaline rush. But no matter what it was, I knew I would help out the PTA again. I just hoped next time they gave me something easier to do--like baking 87 dozen cupcakes.
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Saratoga, California Since 1955
